We are guilty of many errors and many faults, But our worst crime is abandoning the children, Neglecting the fountain of life. Many of the things we need can wait. The child cannot. Right now is the time his bones are being formed, His blood is being made, And his senses are being developed. To him we cannot answer 'Tomorrow.' His name is 'Today.'

Now I am nothing but a veil; all my body is a veil beneath which a child sleeps.

Let the earth look at me, and bless me, for now I am fecund and sacred, like the palms and the furrows.

What the soul is to the body, so is the artist to his people.

I have all that I lost and I go carrying my childhood like a favorite flower that perfumes my hand.

The poet is an untier of knots, and love without words is a knot, and it drowns.

Speech is our second possession, after the soul-and perhaps we have no other possession in this world.